


Imperfections

by ughdotcom



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Ace!Roman, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Art, Asexual Character, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Poetry, Trans Male Character, Trans!Virgil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-22 22:34:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20881769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ughdotcom/pseuds/ughdotcom
Summary: He sees every flaw, every imperfection, the way he does when he studies his body in the mirror. The way he feels as he walks, and he can tell how feminine his body is, despite the fact that those girls are checking him out.





	1. Chapter 1

Virgil Sanders wouldn’t call himself an artist or a poet, no. The things he wrote weren’t poems, and he could never draw as well as his roommate Roman Alvaro. But, no matter what his mind screamed, Virgil Sanders was a poet, and he was an artist.

> The girls sits in the wood.
> 
> Her hands are clasped in her lap, her head bowed as if she is praying.
> 
> But her lips stay still.
> 
> Maybe she is praying,
> 
> Or maybe she is listening to the trees.

He inks the words carefully into his drawing, the figure with her hood drawn up. You can see her eyes closed, her face peaceful. The green hoodie blends to its surroundings, the forest he’s put so much detail into.

He sees every flaw, every imperfection, the way he does when he studies his body in the mirror. The way he feels as he walks, and he can tell how feminine his body is, despite the fact that those girls are checking him out.

He doesn’t see how the trees seem to grow on the paper, how the girl seems to breeze, how you can pinpoint the wind blowing her hoodie. He doesn’t see how the words are perfect. He only sees a small smear of ink, how on eye is a bit bigger, how that one tree in the back is disobeying the rules of physics.

A sharp knock sounded on his door, and he slammed the cover to his desk down, yelling “Yes!”

A scoff comes from the other side of the door. Ah. It’s Roman. “Watching porn, Incredible Sulk?” the taunting voice inquires.

Virgil storms to the door and throws it open. “What the hell do you want, Roman?”

A roll of the eyes and Roman is gone, leaving Virgil with the notice that dinner is ready.

Patton Watson insists on cooking dinner for his three unusual roommates. Virgil, the introvert. Roman, the extrovert. And Logan Lee, the… no one can describe Logan Lee.

Logan is smart, Logan is cold, and Logan is hopelessly in love with Patton. Logan is emotionless, Logan is highbrow, Logan is completely and totally head over heels.

Patton is also in love with Logan, but he has no idea that his feelings are requited.

Dinner is a quiet affair, and Roman leaves quite suddenly, but he is finished, so they don’t protest.

Virgil finishes, gathers his things and sets them by the sink, creeping upstairs. His hand rest in the doorknob a second (was that a noise inside?) before turning it.

“Roman?!” he shrieks, and Roman looks up from his drawings, guilty.

“Did you draw these?”

“Put them down!” Virgil grabs the drawings from Roman and sets them down. “Those are mine.” he says, his voice small now. “My personal business.”

Roman sighs. “I’m sorry.” he rests a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, but the smaller man flinches away. Roman picks up another drawing. “Did you draw this?”

The painting, for it is a painting, not a drawing, is of Roman. He looks godly, and the words surrounding him are soft and romantic, but sad and lonesome.

> His dark hair gleams in the sun,
> 
> A halo maybe.
> 
> He isn’t mine, and I don’t wish him to be.
> 
> I want him to be his own person,
> 
> To live his own life.
> 
> What I want is for him to love me back.

Virgil nods. “I’m sorry.” he says.

“And the words?”

“Me.”

Roman smiles, and it’s soft, and Virgil braces. _ He’s going to tell me _ he thinks  _ He’s going to let me down softly _ .

But Roman does neither of these things, instead he embraces Virgil in a hug, and he freezes.

“I do.” Roman replies. “I do love you back.”

The drawings flutter in the wind from a forgotten window left open, and Roman looks at them some more, and he sees so many more of himself. Sometimes they are angry, sometimes sad, sometimes soft.

And even though Virgil hasn’t said I love you, Roman knows he does.


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s perfect.” Roman said, studying Virgil’s drawing.

“No.” Virgil replies. He can see the imperfections, that smudge of ink and watercolor, where the bark looks flimsy and 2d. He can see that the two men, the two dancing in the center, one looks to feminine. He didn’t mean that it would be him and Roman, but who starts out knowing exactly what they want in art.

“Is it us?”

“Yeah.”

“Which one?”

Virgil is startled out of his self deprecating funk. “What?” How _ can’t _ Roman tell? Roman is the handsome tall one, and Virgil… Virgil is the feminine one. “You’re the hot one.”

Roman winks at him. “No, that’s you. Seriously though, babe, which one’s me?”

Virgil was being serious, but he can’t explain that to Roman, so he just points.

“Oh. That isn’t the hot one.”

And Virgil’s heart fills with dread because what if Roman is straight, and is only obliging him with pronouns and names. But he dismisses that. Why would he? Roman loves him and Roman is gay.

“Babe? You okay.”

Virgil smiles at Roman. “Yeah.” he pecks him on the cheek, and Roman spins him around.

“Where are the words?” Roman asks as he stops spinning.

“What?”

“Your drawings always have words, and there’s the white space.”

“Oh. yeah.” Virgil stammers. “I was hoping that you could write them?”

Roman grins. “Of course!” he kisses Virgil before realizing that, one, he should have asked for consent, and two, they haven’t kissed on the lips before.

“I’m so so sorry!” Roman says, but Virgil just smiles and kisses him back.

“Have fun writing the poem.”

Roman grins and sits at Virgil’s desk, pulling his headphones up, so Virgil goes downstairs to get some ramen, because he’s hungry, and he’s so _ happy _ because Roman kissed him.

Roman’s eyes wander as he writes, and he sees another drawing, hastily showed under a book. He pulls it out and uncrumples it.

It’s so dark. It’s Virgil, standing in the dark, but his hair is long and his chest is big and his eyes are so _ so _ dead. The words around him are stylized and scratchy, but that isn’t what stands out to Roman. What stands out are the words themselves.

They aren’t a poem this time, but a rant. A rant about imperfection.

Roman’s smile falls. Is this how Virgil feels? He pulls down the headphones. The music continues to play, but the poppy beats of _ Six _ don’t make him happy. The words are so jarring, so raw. He knows why Virgil wouldn’t want him to see this. They’ve only been dating for a while.

But Roman genuinely loves him, and will do anything for him. He knows that Virgil will never want a heartfelt truthful love confession. He would think that Roman had just seen the picture and was faking it. So Roman goes to work, putting his headphones on and losing himself into the music, putting the drawing back under the book.

> I’m imperfect.
> 
> But love makes you feel less so,
> 
> Because love is when someone sees all of you,
> 
> And loves the lesser bits of you.

Roman smiles. He loves Virgil, and he knows Virgil will love him, no matter what. No matter what Roman asks for or asks not to do. Mostly the latter. And that doesn;t mean he can’t refuse him for the first.

> Love is the flowers blooming,
> 
> Love is spinning feeling as you dance in their arms.
> 
> Love is the feeling I have around you.

He leans back with a grin. Perfect. He’ll let Virgil ink it, partially because he wants Virgil to read every word, but partially because he has terrible handwriting.

“I’m back.” Virgil announces and Roman grins at him.

“I’m finished!”

“Oh really!” Virgil’s words are ones that are so often spoken sarcastically, but they are full of hope and happiness.

He takes the notebook from Roman’s hand, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek as he does so.

Roman studies him carefully as he reads. Almost instantly Virgil tears up.

“You read it?”

“What?” Roman says to the inquiry, fully unaware of what Virgil is talking about.

“The drawing. The one under the book. You read it?”

“Yeah.” Roman admits. “Do you really feel that way?”

Virgil nods, unable to speak.

“Oh, sweetie.” Roman stand up and wraps Virgil in a hug. “I know I can’t get you to stop feeling like that, but can I help?”

“You can try.”

He makes a noise of distress. “Oh, Virgey. I _ will _ try, and I _ will _ succeed. Of course you’re imperfect, but everyone is. I am.”

“No. You aren’t.”

Well, Roman wasn’t planning to come out, but he does. He whispers his secret in Virgil’s ear, and Virgil laughs, making him freeze.

“Oh, Ro. Sexuality doesn’t make you less of a person.”

“And your assigned gender at birth doesn’t make you less of a man.”

Virgil sobs into Roman’s jacket, but Roman keeps holding him close.

“I love you.” he whispers “you’re perfect.”

“I love you too.” he whispers back “And no I’m not.”

“No, you’re not. But, who is?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plz kudos and comment!


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